


Decadence & Decay

by yumedake



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Concerned friends are concerned, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Murder, Murder Husbands, Will is also not right in the head, Will just loves the Chesapeake Ripper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4820183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumedake/pseuds/yumedake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt fill for @bittenbyspidey who inspired me with her "Serial Killer/Fanboy" tweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Hello, Earth to Will Graham!" Beverly called, waving a hand in front of her friend's vacant stare.  


Will blinked and his attention snapped back to the present, where he sat at a table in some dive bar across from his friend Beverly Katz, a beer in hand. Will's vision focused in enough time to see Beverly tilting her head curiously.  


"Where do you go when you space out like that?" Beverly asked, a half-smirk on her lips. "You do it a lot."  


Will breathed a laugh and shrugged his shoulders. He knew Beverly wouldn't have appreciated an honest answer, considering the dark places his mind often took him, so he lied.  


"I'm just tired. Too many late hours at work." Will explained, offering a small smile to reassure his friend that everything was fine.  


Beverly arched a brow and reached to swipe to the next photo on the phone that lay on the table between them.  


"I don't know how you can be tired when you're looking at this stuff. I've seen a lot of shit but these Chesapeake Ripper cases really creep me out. His murders are like morbid pieces of art. It's like this guy gets off on making a spectacle of what he's doing. Did you know he takes their organs as a trophies?" Beverly murmured, turning her phone toward Will as she found the picture she had been looking for.  


Will's eyes drifted down toward the photo that Beverly had pulled up, a man laying broken and bent with so many different pieces of metal jutting out from him in every direction. He had seen it before and it was beautiful. Though he would never say as much out loud.  


"He looks like a human pincushion." Will commented absently, darkly amused by the thought.  


Beverly couldn't help but laugh in response to Will's words. Will Graham had always had a peculiar sense of humor that she appreciated.  


"Yeah, he does. I guess I'd better get used to this extreme stuff if I'm going to keep doing this for a living." Beverly replied, the latter part of her comment more a reminder to herself than anything. "Why don't you get back into forensics, Will? You've got the mind for it."  


Will grimaced as he swallowed a drink of his beer, shaking his head as the bottom of the bottle hit the tabletop.  


"I had enough fun with the law while I was in Louisiana." Will responded, frowning at the flicker of a memory of his time as a police officer. "Working on boats is much less stressful."  


Beverly shrugged her shoulders and killed the contents of her beer.  


"If you say so." Beverly said softly, gesturing for the waiter to bring their check. 

With the bill paid, Beverly and Will collected their things and headed outside into the cool night air. Will shivered, pulling his coat a little tighter around him. The weather in Baltimore was a damn sight colder than the South and though he had been living in Virginia for a couple of years, the cold still seemed to cut right through sometimes.  


"I've gotta run. Got a paper to write. Text me later?" Beverly asked with a smile.  


Will brushed his fingers through his hair and nodded his head, offering Beverly a small smile in return. Beverly reached to hug her friend before she thought better of it. Will had never been very keen on physical touches. Will appreciated her respect.  


The two friends parted ways and Will stuffed his hands into his pockets, turning toward the old Volvo station wagon he'd parked a block away. The new images of the Ripper's victims floated around in his mind, to be catalogued with the rest of his internalized file. Will had always been fascinated with mortality, with the darker side of life. It was a blessing that Beverly hadn't thought anything amiss with Will's fixation on the Chesapeake Ripper and if she had, at least she hadn't mentioned it. As Will reached his car and got in to turn the ignition,he sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes for a moment. He really was exhausted and it was a long drive home. 

\---

When Will got home, he tossed his keys onto the table as he walked in the front door of his modest house out in the country, his dogs bouncing around excitedly at his feet. He took a moment to feed his dogs, opening the front door afterward to let them run around for a bit in the front yard. Will watched the dogs yip and play, bounding around in the cold grass with such excitement. Will wished he could be as carefree as the pets he kept though he was grateful for the opportunity just to watch them and live vicariously through their enthusiasm for life. With a few clicks of his tongue his pack of dogs turned and darted back toward the house and Will shut the door behind them but didn't lock it. He never locked his doors.  


Scratching at the back of his head, Will toed off his shoes and turned for the little desk in the front room of his house and pulled out the chair, taking a seat. Reaching for a pen and paper, Will scribbled down notes about the image that Beverly had shown him, detailing all of the different objects that had been stuck into the Ripper's victim and their positions from memory as best he could. Looking over the list, Will smiled with satisfaction and reached for a small wire-bound notebook he kept beneath a stack of fishing magazines. Opening to the next blank page, Will set his pen to paper once again.

_New pictures today from an old crime. Human pincushion. I wonder what you'll show us next? It's been so long and I can hardly wait. I don't think just anyone can appreciate you but I do. I see you._

Will smiled, looking over the entry once as he set the pen down. Wedging his notes into the notebook, he closed it and carefully put it back beneath the magazines. He would file it away with the rest later. Standing from the chair, Will stretched his arms over his head. It was late and he was tired but wasn't that always the case? His nightmares never let him sleep much anyway.  


Will padded the short distance to the bed in his front room, navigating a maze of resting dogs. Reaching down to undo the button and zipper at the front of his jeans, Will pushed the fabric off his hips and to the ground, stepping out of it as he climbed up onto the bed and made himself comfortable.  


Closing his eyes, Will let his vivid imagination take him to that secret place in his mind where he had meticulously stored all of his knowledge of the Chesapeake Ripper. Sometimes Will liked to imagine what the man looked like. He was almost certainly older, maybe 40's, possibly caucasian. The Ripper wasn't just any psychopath, Will knew this. He would be something new, something different, something hard to place like a blue puzzle piece in a picture of a cloudless sky. Will liked to imagine that the Ripper was handsome, cultured, refined. How could he not be, considering the art he created?  


With a groan, Will reached down with his right hand to palm his half-hard cock beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. This had become his nightly ritual, his proverbial "happy place". Will's mind's eye took him to the woods behind his house in the dead of night. He was running from the Ripper, not for his life but for the sheer thrill of it. The night air was crisp and every aching breath that filled his lungs made him feel alive. The fast footfalls behind him crunched on dry twigs and leaves and it was by that sound that Will knew the Ripper was closing the gap. He knew the Ripper would catch him - he always did in these fantasies. As the faceless killer drew nearer Will's cock stiffened to full hardness beneath his palm and Will's fingers made quick work of the button at the front of his boxers so that he could pull his cock free.  


The Ripper tackled Will to the ground, pinning Will down easily and pressing his hands above his head with just his left hand. Will made a show of his struggle but he didn't want to get loose...not really. With the knife in his right hand, the Ripper pressed the edge of the blade to Will's bared throat but didn't cut. Will's fist closed around his cock, stroking the length of it as the Ripper leaned down and caught Will's lips in a fierce kiss. It took only a few more strokes to bring Will to his quiet climax, rivulets of come spurting onto the front of Will's ratty t-shirt. Will exhaled shakily before opening his eyes and wiping his hand on his shirt. Sitting up, Will peeled the garment off and tossed it into the clothes hamper in the corner of the room. He would wash it tomorrow.  


Slipping beneath the covers and curling onto his side, Will closed his eyes and smiled as the Ripper slipped his arms around him and ushered him off to sleep.

\---

Will woke up exactly four and a half hours later to the sound of his phone vibrating its way across his desk. For a moment the vibrating stopped and Will turned to bury his face in the pillow beneath his head but his rest was short-lived, interrupted by the chime that signified a text message received.  


Shoving his covers off of him, Will swung his legs over the edge of the bed with a sigh and pulled himself upright. One hand scratched at his scalp through his dark, unruly curls while the other stifled a yawn. Eventually, Will managed to stand and shuffle the short distance to his desk to check his phone.

_ >Alana: I brought you breakfast. Didn't want to just barge in._

Will took a moment to look around for his jeans and tugged them on, nearly falling over in the process as the dogs swarmed around him. Will's next stop was the closet and he pulled a plaid button-down shirt from its hanger, tugging it on and buttoning just enough buttons to keep it from falling off his shoulders. Padding his way to the front door, Will pulled the door open and the dogs cascaded out like a stream of fur, past both him and Alana, who had been standing on the front porch.

"Hey, sleepy head!" Alana greeted with a smile, raising both hands in offering.

Will's tired eyes glanced first at the cardboard drinks holder that held two coffee cups and second to the brown paper bag. 

"Gonna let me in, or should we eat out here?" Alana asked, her good-natured smile still ever present.

Will moved to the side and gestured for Alana to come in, holding the door open for his friend. Alana moved past Will as she had done so many times before, making her way to the kitchen where she sat breakfast down on the counter. Alana couldn't help but notice the bits of newspaper clippings that were scattered around next to the scissors that lay near the sink. The sight made her frown.

"Find more articles on the Chesapeake Ripper?" Alana asked, hoping Will had been clipping out free puppy ads instead.

Will smirked and moved to pick up his front room a little bit... it was a bit of a mess and he hadn't expected company, especially not this early.

"What else would I have bought a newspaper for?" Will asked rhetorically. 

Alana sighed softly as she opened the brown paper bag and fished out a couple of breakfast sandwiches, egg and sausage on croissant. She set the food on the counter before plucking the paper coffee cups from their seats as well, turning to face Will with an expression Will had seen on her face about a hundred times before.

"Maybe I was just hoping you'd gotten interested in something a little less morbid." Alana answered, extending one cup toward Will.

Will made his way over to the kitchen and accepted the cup, taking a drink of the hot contents and swallowing before looking up but not quite meeting Alana's eyes.

"You say that like maybe it's an actual possibility. When have I ever been interested in anything normal?" Will asked, glancing up toward Alana's eyes for a moment with a self-deprecating smile.

Alana pulled a face, taking a drink from her own cup of coffee.

"Dogs are normal." Alana countered.

Will laughed, a short, dry sound.

"Not when you have seven of them." Will replied, taking another sip of coffee.

Alana shrugged her shoulders in deference and reached for a sandwich, tossing one at Will. She was impressed when he caught it without issue. For a moment Alana simply watched as Will abandoned his coffee in favor of opening the wrapper on the sandwich and tossing it aside. Will could feel Alana's eyes on him as he took his first bite. Swallowing, Will sighed and set his sandwich down for a moment. Alana unwrapped her own sandwich, her eyes on her hands as she considered her words.

"I'm just worried about you, is all. You live out here by yourself and you're obsessed with a serial killer. I'm your friend, Will. It's my job to be worried." Alana explained, moving to toss the sandwich wrapper away.

"I just find the cases interesting, is all." Will murmured, hoping Alana wouldn't pick up on his half-truths.

Alana knew better. She had known Will for long enough to recognize the way he avoided people's eyes when he was uncomfortable, the way his smile became tight when a subject was just a little too awkward for him. Alana waited for Will to busy himself with his sandwich again, still watching him from her position against the edge of the countertop.  


"I think maybe it would help you to see someone." Alana suggested, taking another drink of coffee.

Will stopped mid-chew and looked up at Alana like he couldn't believe what she had just said.

"What, like a therapist? A support group for men with deranged interests?" Will asked dryly, swallowing down his mouthful of food.

Alana shrugged and picked up her sandwich, regarding it quietly for a moment before she returned her attention to her friend.

"Yes, like a therapist." Alana answered simply, giving Will a soft, compassionate smile. "I have someone in mind... he's a good friend and mentor of mine. I think you'd really like him."

Will sighed heavily and set his sandwich down, opting instead for the coffee once more. It was way too early for this conversation.

"At least meet him before you write him off." Alana continued, noting the way Will started to fidget. She knew this conversation would have to be abandoned soon. "Just for a consultation. It'll just be like you're having a conversation, no psychoanalysis required." 

Will looked up at Alana and took in the way her blue eyes pleaded with him, the hopeful look on her face and he knew he couldn't tell her no.

"Okay." Will agreed, frowning as he took another drink.

Alana's face lit up in happy surprise and she reached into her pocket for the business card she had brought along with her. Extending her hand, she offered the card to Will who took it and frowned at the elegant font on off-white paper.

"Doctor Hannibal Lecter, huh? Sounds more like a Count than a therapist." Will quipped, tucking the card into the pocket at the front of his shirt.

Alana laughed, her mood considerably lighter now that Will had taken the card from her.

"You're not all that far off." Alana answered, chuckling before taking a small bite of her sandwich.

Alana didn't miss the confusion that passed over Will's face, pleased that she had stoked some interest in Will. Maybe if he was curious enough he would actually call Dr. Lecter. She had suggested the touchy subject of therapy to Will before and each time the idea had been quickly and completely dismissed. Alana was hopeful that maybe this time would be different... she didn't like to watch Will slip further and further into his self-imposed solitude. If she was honest, Alana was really starting to worry for Will's mental health.

The rest of their meal passed in equal measures friendly chatter and pleasant silence. After breakfast Will and Alana had gone out with the dogs, walking around Will's property in the early morning sun. Alana excused herself an hour later, citing work and traffic and Will left her with a wave before returning to his home. 

Taking a seat at his desk, Will ran over a mental checklist of things that he needed to accomplish for the day. It was only when his hand raised to scratch at his chest that he remembered the card in his pocket. Taking the paper out, Will studied it for a moment, turning it about and running his fingers against the embossed letters. He had known Alana for several years and she meant well. Maybe one appointment would throw her off the trail for a while and a Will could slip quietly into his regularly scheduled programming. With a sigh of concession, Will reached for his phone.


	2. Chapter 2

Will stood in the corner of the waiting room in Dr. Hannibal Lecter's Baltimore office with his arms crossed over his chest and a put-out look on his face. When he had called to schedule his appointment Will had held tight to the possibility that maybe the doctor's dance card was full and he wouldn't be taking new patients. Will imagined all the ways in which he might pout to convince Alana that he was just as disappointed with the news as she was. When it turned out that there were openings in the doctor's appointment book, Will had begrudgingly made an appointment but nearly turned around to drive back home a minimum of three times on his way here. Yet, here he was in Baltimore at seven-thirty at night, the latest appointment available.

When the door opened five minutes later, Will looked up to see a tall, impeccably dressed man with a sweep of hair across his forehead and a pleasant hint of a smile on his lips. The man's face was all angles, slightly exotic and complimentary to the honeyed skin that was enhanced by the dark color of his three-piece suit. Will was a bit surprised at the sight, pleasantly so, if he was honest. He had pictured something much different when he had read the name on the business card. Some old European man with a hard stare and round wire glasses. 

"William Graham, I presume?" The man said, canting his head to the side ever so slightly. "Please, come in." 

Will watched as Dr. Hannibal Lecter made a gesture through the open door with a sweep of his hand, same placid smile on his face. The man was all handsomeness and grace and Will wasn't sure he was going to be able to sit through this appointment in its entirety.

"You can call me Will. No one calls me William." Will grumbled as he clutched his coat to his side and stepped past the doctor into the office.

Hannibal's office was large and ornate, outfitted in tastefully dark furniture and pieces of art. It was certainly larger and more impressive than any office Will had ever been in which had been little more than a couple of chairs and some tacky motivational posters or hotel-worthy wall art. Everything in the room screamed money and Will wondered for a moment if Hannibal was as pretentious as his furnishings could suggest. 

"Will, then. You may call me Hannibal if you wish." Hannibal replied, gesturing next to one of the black leather chairs that sat opposite each other in front of his desk.

Will tossed his coat onto the chaise lounge near the window before taking what appeared to be his assigned seat. 

"I'll call you Dr. Lecter." Will answered flatly, sinking into the cushioned back of the chair.

Hannibal smirked, his movements paused as he regarded Will for a moment. The man was straightforward, almost rude but Hannibal could read Will's body language like a map and he knew that Will was simply uncomfortable, lashing out with curt responses his as a means of deflection. 

"God forbid we become friendly." Hannibal replied, his smile returning to his lips as he moved to sit opposite Will, crossing one leg over the other.

Will sighed and ran a hand over his face, stretching out his handsome features almost comically as he dragged his hand downward from his curls to his chin. 

"Look," Will started, his eyes everywhere but Hannibal, "I'll be honest with you. I don't want to be here. In fact, right now, here is the last place on earth I want to be. I only agreed to see you because a friend of mine won't stop bothering me about 'seeing someone'." 

Hannibal's expression shifted minutely to amusement before it was gone just as quickly. At least the man was honest.

"Ah, Doctor Bloom." Hannibal acknowledged with a nod, his smile becoming just a little wider as he tilted his head. "Lovely woman. She's told me a lot about you, Will." 

Will froze, his eyes actually making it to Hannibal's face for a moment where they searched for more information than Hannibal was going to give up. 

"What did she tell you?" Will asked, his words almost hesitant. 

Hannibal shrugged, holding onto Will's eye contact as he watched the twitchy man start to fidget.

"She tells me you have a fascination with the Chesapeake Ripper." Hannibal answered, noting the way Will's skin paled ever so slightly. "Tell me, Will, what is it that makes the Ripper so interesting to you?"

Will broke away from Hannibal's gaze and focused on the cuff of his long-sleeved plaid shirt, tugging at it absently in an effort to distract himself. His fascination with the Ripper was like a dirty secret that made him uncomfortable when it was brought to light. People tended to associate a keen interest in murder as a sign of mental illness. Maybe people were right. It was that possibility that was the basis for Will's discomfort. 

"I'm just interested in the cases." Will repeated, his stand-by line for when anyone brought up the subject. 

Hannibal wasn't buying it. Folding his hands in his lap, Hannibal waited quietly for Will to continue. Hannibal was nothing if not patient. After a few silent moments, Will shrugged one shoulder unceremoniously, looking for all the world like a child who had been questioned about their involvement in the appearance of crayola all over the walls.

"I understand him." Will said at last, his words quiet and directed at his own lap. 

Hannibal's brow raised his interest piqued by this little tidbit of information. There were patients of his who felt they could "understand" certain people, largely celebrities, but their understanding was often little more than projection and a strong desire to feel important and acknowledged. This didn't seem to be the case with the man who curled ever further into himself as the time pressed on.

"What is there to understand? He is a murderer like any other, is he not?" Hannibal pressed, hoping to spark conversation with his blasé assessment though he knew very well that the Chesapeake Ripper was anything but your standard serial killer.

Will looked up, just as Hannibal had anticipated he would, and stared daggers in Hannibal's general direction.

"He's not your garden variety murderer, Doctor Lecter." Will started, his tone and expression indignant. "The Ripper is..." Will's words trailed off with his gaze as he searched for the right words to articulate the feeling he held within him at the mere mention of the Ripper's moniker. "...special. Different. He's like an artist, displaying his work for all to see and admire and it is certainly worth admiration. When I look at the crime scene photos I can... I can _feel_ him like I'm inside his head, looking through his eyes when he puts together his masterpieces." 

Hannibal wasn't sure what to make of the fluttering feeling that Will's tirade had set off in his chest and he hoped the sudden spark of sensation wasn't evident on his face. Will's interest in the Ripper - in him - was pure and raw and so very intriguing. Clearing his throat against one closed fist, Hannibal took a moment to truly process what he'd just heard before furthering the conversation.

"You speak of art." Hannibal started, redirecting the conversation for a moment. "Are you an artist, Will?"

Will scoffed and shook his head, curls bouncing pleasantly. Where Will's spine had straightened defensively just a moment ago when he spoke of the Ripper, Will's posture now slouched in self-deprecation. Hannibal watched every minute movement with a keen eye and even keener interest. It was becoming abundantly clear to Hannibal that this man was far from ordinary himself.

"No. I'm about as far from artist as you can get. I fix and restore boats in a marina near my house." Will answered, further deflating in what almost looked like embarrassment.

"Art is a many faceted thing, Will. Just because you cannot put a pencil to paper and create the Vitruvian Man does not make your passion any less artistic." Hannibal suggested, wondering at the almost bi-polar way that Will reacted to the flow of their conversation. "Are you passionate about boats, Will?"

Will smiled, a small, fragile thing and focused his gaze on somewhere between Hannibal's almost certainly expensive, polished dress shoes and his own old, worn boots.

"When I'm on the water or when I'm fishing, I feel free of the stress and expectations of life. At night I leave the lights on in my little house and walk across the flat fields. When I look back from a distance the house is like a boat on the sea. It's really the only time I feel safe." Will explained, his gaze still faraway even as his lips had stopped moving.

A peculiar warmth spread through Hannibal as he watched the creases in Will's face smooth, the smile on his lips become more genuine. Each word that fell from Will's lips was genuine, a glimpse into the man that hid beneath the gruff exterior that he presented to the world. Will Graham was a complex creature and Hannibal was most interested in peeling back the layers and seeing what made him tick.

"I can see the passion in your eyes, Will, in spite of your attempts to hide it." Hannibal noted, a soft smile curving his full lips.

Will's gaze drifted upward toward Hannibal, his brow briefly knitting together in confusion. Maybe it was that no one had ever bothered to pay him attention that closely or maybe it was the way the Doctor's dark eyes had softened at the edges that caused a warm blush to creep over Will's cheeks. Will immediately resented the openness of it and lowered his head in an attempt to hide once more. 

Hannibal's smile widened as he watched Will quietly for a moment before his eyes glanced at the nearest clock. With a sigh, Hannibal realized their hour was almost up. 

"Let's see what we have learned about Will Graham today." Hannibal started, his tone light in an attempt to brighten the mood. "You are a fisherman, a lover of seafaring and you seem to adore the Chesapeake Ripper. Have I got everything right?" 

Will let out a breathy laugh and smiled, nodding his head. Truly, his interests sounded utterly ridiculous when listed out like that. Raising his head, there was an almost happy clarity in Will's blue eyes as he looked up at Hannibal. 

"I'm not exactly normal, am I Doctor?" Will prompted, though he felt he knew the answer.

"The concept of normality is a social construct, designed to shame those with interests that deviate from the spectrum of popularity or interests which make others uncomfortable." Hannibal countered, wearing a warm smile.

Will laughed again, a little more confidently this time and Hannibal decided he quite liked the sound of it and the way that it made Will's eyes crinkle at the corners. 

"So you aren't going to send me to the asylum for my interest in the Ripper?" Will asked, lowering his defenses just a little more, encouraged by what seemed to be a rather friendly banter between them.

Hannibal paused for a moment and pursed his lips in thought, looking off into the nether in mock-contemplation. As Hannibal reached his decision, he brought his gaze back to Will, a bit of mischief in his eyes.

"I may send you there for any number of other reasons not yet discovered. Our conversations have only just begun." Hannibal replied, hoping Will would pick up on the humor behind his words and the unspoken invitation for another meeting, formal or not.

Will's confidence seemed to falter for the briefest of moments until he had assessed Hannibal's expression to be good-natured. He watched as Hannibal checked the clock once more and rose from his seat. Will got to his feet shortly thereafter before making his way toward the door that Hannibal had gestured to, stopping a good six feet from the door.

"So, I, uh... can I schedule my next appointment?" Will asked, feeling a bit presumptuous in thinking that Hannibal might be interested in continuing these conversations of theirs, in spite of Hannibal's encouraging subtext. 

"I will do one better," Hannibal started, his smile returning, "I would like to invite you to my home for dinner. Are you free in two days' time at, say, seven o'clock?"

Will blinked, genuinely taken aback by the offer. Will had gone to great lengths in life to keep himself distant from others, to protect them from the darkness he felt within himself but Hannibal, despite knowing just what Will liked to spend his free time reading up on, had extended an invitation. For a moment Will simply stared at Hannibal and wondered if he had hallucinated the whole thing.

"I assure you, there are no professional lines to be crossed. You haven't signed the patient agreement and so you are not my patient and I am not your therapist. We are simply having conversations." Hannibal assured, his smile soft and encouraging. "Besides, I am told I am quite the chef." 

Will's confusion faded into something warmer as Hannibal spoke and after a moment he nodded his head in agreement.

"Two days' time at seven o'clock it is." Will agreed.

Will smiled as he watched Hannibal walk swiftly to his desk and pluck a business card from its holder on the edge of the desk. With what was probably a pen that cost more than Will's entire outfit, Hannibal wrote his home address and phone number on the back of the card and placed the pen back exactly where it had been. Turning to Will, he extended the card and waited for Will to meet him halfway and accept it. Will looked over the perfect handwriting for a moment thoughtfully before tucking the card into the pocket of his shirt with a smile.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Will Graham." Hannibal said, surprised with himself for how genuine those words really were. 

Will smiled though he fought his own inclination to smile too widely. Bowing his head, Will nodded.

"Nice to meet you too, Doctor Lecter." Will replied, moving through the door as Hannibal opened it. 

Hannibal watched Will disappear down the hallway, that strange warmth in his chest once again. With a soft sigh, Hannibal closed his eyes and returned to the seat he had been sat in, simply gazing across the way at the chair's twin, likely still warm with the heat of the man that had occupied it not minutes before. Hannibal spent a few moments in contemplative silence before rising once again and returning to his desk, pulling open the drawer to fetch a small file of business cards. Flipping through them one-by-one, Hannibal considered the name and occupation of each in turn before selecting one that fit the occasion of Friday's dinner plans perfectly. 

There would be time to contemplate the enigma that was Will Graham later. Right now, Hannibal had work to do.

\---

Will had managed to wipe the stupid smile off of his face for a grand total of fifteen minutes of his drive and only when he had encountered some unexpected and thoroughly frustrating traffic. It was with incredible relief that Will finally pulled into his driveway just over an hour after he had left Dr. Lecter's office.

As Will entered his house and tended to his dogs, he found that his hand kept raising to press to his pocket, as if he was trying to make sure that the card nestled there was real and that it was still there. He was relieved when he dipped his fingers into the pocket to feel the edge of the parchment.

Some thirty minutes later, with his chores sorted, Will toed off his shoes and contemplated dinner but made his way toward his bed instead. Unbuttoning his shirt, Will extracted the business card and set it on the mattress before shrugging out of his shirt and ridding himself of his pants as well. Dressed in his usual evening attire of t-shirt and boxer briefs, Will picked up the card before sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

The embossed letters on the card were more interesting now - more than the name of someone he was being forced to see out of a sense of obligation to a concerned friend. Now, the name was attached to the beautiful handwriting on the reverse and the face of a man that was as interesting as he was handsome and poised. For the first time in a long time, Will dared to hope that perhaps he had met someone who would truly understand him and without the usual judgement Will was sure was whispered behind his back. 

Swinging his legs up and onto the bed, Will settled in to begin his nightly routine. Placing the card on his chest, Will's hand wandered down toward the front of his boxers, already half-aroused without having even begun his fantasy. When Will closed his eyes, he was out in front of his house, staring back at his little boat in the distance. He heard the presence behind him before he felt the heat of him against his back, followed by sensation of elegant fingers wrapping around the front of his throat. Turning around carefully, Will raised his eyes to take in the faceless killer of his fantasies but this time, where there was normally a hazy image like looking through a shower door, Will recognized a pair of full lips and a carefully constructed smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, our grumpy fanboy has made a friend!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I expect this to be a multi chapter fic, possibly rather long but I hope it will be worth the read! 
> 
> Musical Inspirations are "Serial Killer"- Lana Del Rey, "#1 Crush" - Garbage and "Vampire Smile" - Kyla La Grange if that gives you any idea what this fic is gonna be like.
> 
> Comments are appreciated. Hannigram is love, Hannigram is life.


End file.
